


Spread Eagle

by FabulaRasa



Category: DCU
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-27
Updated: 2014-04-27
Packaged: 2018-01-20 23:09:12
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,185
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1529177
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FabulaRasa/pseuds/FabulaRasa
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A fic request: sex up against the bat signal. </p><p>This can be read as a continuation of <a href="http://archiveofourown.org/works/1075827">Two For Flinching</a>, a longer Jim/Bruce story.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Spread Eagle

"Incredibly," Jim murmured, when he came up for air. "Unbelievably." His mouth was pulled into another crushing kiss. "Bone-deep." The gauntleted fingers on the back of his neck squeezed tighter. " _Stupid_ , is what,” he finished, but then the mouth was back on his, sucking away any available air.

He put a hand on Bruce’s armored chest, just the flat of his hand, and instantly Bruce stilled. Because that was their thing, their unspoken agreement — as rough as they got, and damn but it got rough, all it took was a hand lightly pressed on the other’s chest to stop things immediately. No amount of force he could ever exert would control Bruce, but that one stiff gesture and Bruce would hold himself motionless, breathless almost, waiting for a word, a command, a look.

Like he was now. They were on the roof of the police station, which was, as Jim had just been pointing out, incredibly, unbelievably, bone-deep stupid. Yes, it was three in the morning, and yes, that door was barred from this side, but still — every instinct in him told him it was stupid. “I have to go in a few minutes,” Bruce whispered. “I won’t be back for a while. Could be a few weeks. I have to go deep undercover if I’m going to track this cartel, you know that.”

"I know," Jim said, burying the convulsion of fear he felt for Bruce’s safety whenever he did something like this. He buried it because he had seen the same spasm cross Bruce’s face, when he himself was suiting up with the SWAT team for a bust. They each had jobs to do, and the likelihood that one or both of them was going to end up broken and covered in blood— _been there, done that_ —was high.

The brick was rough against his back. “I wasn’t saying no,” Jim whispered. “But maybe if we could just go inside, to the stairwell.”

"Not as safe as here." Which was perfectly true; there was no bar securing the bottom door of the stairwell. "Please just kiss me," Bruce was murmuring, against his neck. "Please."

 _Oh, lover_ , Jim wanted to say, and a thousand endearments even stranger and more impossible, like _sweetheart_ and _baby_ and all the things it made him cringe to hear other people say. Instead he kissed him. Man, Bruce was cranked and ready to go. He could feel the trembling, even through the armor. He knew right where the catch was, for the groin plating, and with a deft hand he snapped it. He pushed with the heel of his hand at the bulge that pushed back at him, the thin black fabric sliding back and forth over Bruce’s stiff one.

"Getting wet?" Jim said, softly, and in response Bruce just made a small noise in the back of his throat. And then there were strong fingers digging into his ass, and he was being half-lifted, half-dragged, and his back was now against cool metal and slick glass. The bat-signal.

"You are insane," Jim whispered, and Bruce laughed against his neck.

"Indulge me. Private fantasy. I will spare you the complete elaboration of it."

"Oh yeah? How about you tell me what that looks like?"

"I tilt the signal so it’s flat, I throw you down and fuck you, right on top of it."

"And?" Jim said.

"I get my hand on you the way you like. I jack you until you come. All over it, all over the glass. Your come, everywhere. My fingers sticky with it."

"Jesus Christ, you’ve got a dirty mouth."

"Any complaints?" Bruce was grinding against him now. He could feel the heat of that cock, even through the slick black fabric. Or maybe the fabric wasn’t slick, maybe that was Bruce’s cock seeping through. He got really wet.

He unzipped himself and pulled Bruce in even closer. They were humping faster now, getting desperate, and this would end soon. There were times when sex with Bruce was a luxurious three-hour marathon, and times when it took them fifteen minutes from start to finish, and no one had even taken off any clothes. He dug his fingers into the globes of that sleek armor.

"I love you," Jim said, the words almost catching in his throat, and Bruce’s groan this time could definitely be heard from in that stairwell, if anyone had been there to listen.

"Oh God I’m coming," Bruce panted. "Oh God—" And he was, Jim could feel it in the sudden heat against his own cock. Bruce himself was perfectly still, but the fingers digging into his arm tightened so hard Jim gasped. That was definitely going to bruise. He would love those bruises.

"Oh God," Bruce said again, just an exhalation at this point, and rested his forehead against Jim’s. "Sorry."

Jim grabbed his wrist. “Finish me,” he said. “I need it, please, just—”

He didn’t have to finish his sentence. Bruce’s hand closed around his cock, but it was the goddamn gauntlet, that fucking thing—it was too cold, too not-flesh, and he moaned in frustration. Bruce seemed to sense the problem, and paused. And then Jim’s world was turning upside down—the entire skyline of Gotham had turned on its side, they were all going to slide into the bay—no, Bruce had just tilted the signal and hoisted him, pushed him back on it.

"You motherfucker," he said weakly, but the next instant there was Bruce’s mouth on him, Bruce stretched across him like a heavy black… oh, who the hell even knew, he was beyond nouns, beyond any internal narrative at all. The deft tongue nudged at his slit, swallowed him down. "Com—co—coming," Jim got out, and low in his throat Bruce murmured an "mm hm" of assent, which was enough to make Jim cry out and shoot his load, a thick flood down Bruce’s throat.

"You’ll have to… help me down," Jim panted, when he could make his lips move again. Some essential part of his bone structure had bled out the tip of his cock with that last spurt. Bruce had swallowed it all, the way he always did. "Can’t reach the crank from here."

"Got to go," Bruce whispered, looming over him.

"You son of a bitch," Jim sighed, but he was speaking only to the night sky and the gust of the cape that snapped in the wind, and he was alone. Alone and spread on top of the bat-signal like a sad aging porn star, clothes half-on and half-off, sticky cock and balls to the breeze, still dizzy and sex-drunk and with no idea how he was going to slide off this enormous thing without fracturing something. He supposed he should be grateful Bruce hadn’t tripped the light too, on his way out. 

"When you get back," he called, into the nothingness. "I’m taking this out of your ass. Just so you know."

He couldn’t hear it, but he could feel the answering _mm hm_ in the core of his spine, and the slow smile that would be behind it.


End file.
